


Frozen

by gastonlegume



Category: Frozen (2013), Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, i copied the summary from the imdb page how original is that, i don't know just give it a try, this sounds pretty lame but it's kinda cute i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1780531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gastonlegume/pseuds/gastonlegume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fearless optimist Courfeyrac teams up with Feuilly in an epic journey, encountering Everest-like conditions, and a hilarious snowman named Marius in a race to find Courfeyrac's long time friend Grantaire, whose icy powers have trapped the kingdom in eternal winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> I had this really lame idea for an AU while watching Frozen for the 15th time thanks to my little sister, but only got around to actually write it when I started to ship Courftaire.  
> Have the characters if you're interested:  
> Elsa - Grantaire  
> Anna - Courfeyrac  
> Kristoff - Feuilly  
> Sven - Bahorel  
> Hans - Montparnasse  
> Olaf - Marius  
> Duke of Weselton - M. Thénardier
> 
> in this AU Courfeyrac (Anna) and Grantaire (Elsa) are not siblings but long time friends instead (what allows me to slip Courftaire into this)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: the dialogue/songs were taken off the original final Frozen script

 “Grantaire. Psst. Grantaire! Psst,” Courfeyrac whispers. He climbs into his friend’s bed, and shakes him awake. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

 “Courfeyrac, go back to sleep,” he grumbles, smiling.

 Courfeyrac rolls onto his back and spreads all his weight on Grantaire. “I just can’t,” he says, somewhat dramatically. “The sky’s awake, so  _I_ ’m awake, so we have to play.”

 Grantaire smiles, and shoves Courfeyrac off the bed, “Go play by yourself.”

 Courfeyrac lands butt to floor, and sighs. He then has an idea, and gasps. He hops back on the bed. “Do you wanna build a snowman?,” he says with a mischievous smile.

 Grantaire’s eyes open, and he smiles.

 In no time they’re running down the stairs, Courfeyrac wearing snow boots, and pulling Grantaire by the hand, “Come on, come on, come on, come on.”

 Grantaire tries to shush him, not succeeding because of how excited Courfeyrac is.

 The boys sneak into the ballroom, and Grantaire shuts the door close.

 “Do the magic! Do the magic!,” Courfeyrac asks. Grantaire laughs and waves his hands together. Snowflakes suddenly burst forth and dance between his palms, forming a snowball. Grantaire throws the snowball high into the air. Snow bursts out and flurries around the room. Courfeyrac dances about, catching flakes in his palms and mouth. “This is amazing!”

 “Watch this!,” Grantaire says, before stomping his slippered foot, creating a layer of ice, which coats the floor, forming a giant ice rink. Courfeyrac slides off, laughing.

 They roll giant snowballs and build a snowman together. Grantaire moves his stick arms around.

 “Hi, I’m Marius and I like warm hugs.”

 Courfeyrac jumps up and hugs the snowman, “I love you, Marius.”

 Courfeyrac is now fearlessly jumping off a snow peak into mid air.

 “Catch me!”

 Grantaire makes another peak to catch him, “Gotcha!”

 Courfeyrac keeps jumping as Grantaire casts magic. He starts to jump faster, “Again! Again!”

 Grantaire begins to struggle to keep up with him, “Slow down!”

 He slips on the ice. Grantaire’s magic accidentally strikes Courfeyrac in the head, making him tumble down a snow bank and landing, unconscious.

 “Courfeyrac!,” Grantaire runs to him and him in his arms. A streak of Courfeyrac’s hair, where struck, turns white. “Mama! Papa!”

 The ballroom fills with ice spikes. Their parents burst through the frozen door, and gasp at the sight of the room.

 “Grantaire, what have you done? This is getting out of hand!”

 “Courfeyrac!,” the queen exclaims at seeing her son.

 They rush to Courfeyrac and take him in their arms.

 “It was an accident. I’m sorry, Courfeyrac.”

 “He’s ice cold,” the queen whispers, about Courfeyrac.

 “I know where we have to go.”

* * *

 

 Feuilly travels alone with Bahorel through the dark woods. All of a sudden, the king and queen race by with the boys, leaving the wake of ice.

 “Ice?,” Feuilly rides his reindeer as they follow the trail of ice. “Faster, ‘Rel!”

 He hops off Bahorel at the edge of a deep valley. They hide behind a rock and peek out.

 Down below, the king holds a frightened Grantaire. The queen holds Courfeyrac, still unconscious.

 “Please, help. My son!”

 Rocks tumble down the valley towards them. Feuilly’s eyes widen, it looks as though they’ll be crushed! Luckily, the rocks stop at their feet. They then unfold revealing bright faces. “Trolls...?”

 The rock in front of him unfolds as well, “Shush, I’m trying to listen.”

 She grabs Feuilly and Bahorel by hand and hoof and hugs them close. She eyes them both, “Cuties. I’m gonna keep you.”

 Below the crowd parts for a troll who looks as old as the Earth. They call him Grand Valjean. He approaches arthritically, but determined. He nods respectfully to the king, “Your Majesty. Born with powers or cursed?”

 The king stammers a bit before answering, “Born. And they’re getting stronger.”

 Grand Valjean motions for the Queen to bring Courfeyrac to him. She does and he examines him, “You are lucky it wasn’t his heart. The heart is not so easily changed, but the head can be... Persuaded.”

 “Do what you must.”

 “I recommend we remove all magic, even memories of magic, to be safe,” he pauses and pulls out a glowing blue energy from Courfeyrac’s head. Feuilly sees his memories floating right above Courfeyrac. Grand Valjean changes all of his magical memories to ordinary memory – snowy play indoors with the boys in their night clothes changes to outdoors on the winter fjords with them in winter gear. “But don’t worry, I’ll leave the fun,” he puts the ordinary memories back in his head. “He will be okay.”

 “But he won’t remember I have powers?”

 “It’s for the best.”

 “Listen to me, Grantaire, your power will only grow,” he conducts the Northern Lights to show a silhouette of an adult Grantaire, creating magical snowflakes. “There is beauty in your magic... But also great danger,” the snowflakes turn into sharp spikes. “You must learn to control it,” in the Northern Lights display, the sharp spikes cause human figures to panic and attack Grantaire. “Fear will be your enemy.”

 Grantaire gasps and buries his face in the king’s chest. He wraps his arms around Grantaire, protectively, “No. We’ll protect him. He can learn to control it. I’m sure. Until then, we’ll lock the gates. We’ll reduce the staff. We will limit his contact with people and keep his powers hidden from everyone... Including Courfeyrac.”

* * *

 

 Courfeyrac skips up to the window. He lights up at the sight of the snow and rushes down the hall. He knocks on Grantaire’s door, “Do you wanna build a snowman? Come on let’s go and play,” he peeks under the door. “I never see you anymore. Come out the door. It’s like you’ve gone away!” Courfeyrac plays with two dolls in front of Grantaire’s door, “We used to be best buddies,” he gives up, sad. “And now we’re not. I wish you tell me why!” He peeks through the key hole, “Do you wanna build a snowman? It doesn’t have to be a snowman!,” he calls through the key hole.

 “Go away, Courfeyrac,” he hears Grantaire reply.

 Courfeyrac gives up. “Okay bye,” he murmurs, before leaving.

 Grantaire sits at the window looking out longingly. His icy hands freeze the windowsill.

 Later that day, the king slips leather gloves onto Grantaire’s hands. “The gloves will help,” he pats Grantaire’s gloved hand. “See? You’re good... Conceal it.”

 “Don’t feel it.”

 “Don’t let it show,” both say.

 Four years later, Courfeyrac hasn’t given up. He, now 9 years old, knocks on Grantaire’s door. “Do you wanna build a snowman? Or ride our bike around the hall?,” he rides a bicycle built for two in the hall by standing on the back seat. “I think some company is overdue,” he runs around the portrait room, gaining momentum to flip over the arm of the couch. “I’ve started talking to the pictures on the walls!,” he lands on the cushions, looking up at the painting above her of the courageous Joan of Arc. “Hang in there, Joan,”  he lays at the base of the grandfather clock, playing with his clothes. “It gets a little lonely, all these empty rooms. Just watching the hours tick by!,” Courfeyrac’s eyes follow the clock’s pendulum.

 At night, Grantaire, whom is now 12, paces as he panics. The entire wall behind him is frozen, “I’m scared. It’s getting stronger.”

 “Getting upset only makes it worse,” the king says, going to hug him.

 “No! Don’t touch me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 The king and the queen look at each other with alarmed sadness.

* * *

 

 Several years later, Courfeyrac runs into the room and throws himself into his parent’s arms, “See you in two weeks!”

 Inside Grantaire’s room, he bows down to his friend’s parents, without touching them, “Do you have to go?”

 “You’ll be fine, Grantaire,” the king assures.

 Courfeyrac’s parents die in a shipwreck, and he is the one to go to their funeral, Grantaire being left inside his room.

 At night, Courfeyrac, still in his mourning clothes, approaches Grantaire’s door and knocks, “Grantaire?  _Please_  I know you’re in there. People are asking where you’ve been. They say have courage. And I’m trying to. I’m right out here for you. Please let me in,” he slides down the door, and sits with his head against it. “We only have each other. It’s just you and me. What are we gonna do?,” Courfeyrac voice cracks at the last word. “Do you wanna… Build a snowman?”

 Grantaire is sitting with his head against the door as well. His bedroom is frozen with ice, snowflakes hanging in the air, suspended by grief. He lets out a sob, and drowns his face in his crossed arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my friend [lisbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queertonabbey/pseuds/queertonabbey) thank you so much again!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr by the way, not that you actually care but I'm [athelstaire](http://athelstaire.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This is sort of a gift to my best friend (in real life), Mary and my little sister, who are both huge Frozen and Les Misérables fans.
> 
> P.S.: Sorry it's so short, the next chapters will be longer, I swear.


End file.
